


Pour Me Fast but Drink Me Slow

by Joanjun



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Lonely Eyes, M/M, Making Out, Making Up, Peter and Elias having a tense dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24588817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joanjun/pseuds/Joanjun
Summary: Elias is a workaholic. Peter wants him to try harder at their relationship. Despite his best interests, Elias has promised him he will.A.K.A. soft Lonely Eyes even though they don’t deserve it.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 16
Kudos: 117





	Pour Me Fast but Drink Me Slow

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my lovely beta reader @mabi_lune on AO3 who writes amazingly fluffy JonMartin fics! <3

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

To be frank, neither had Elias.

He suspected, or rather, he _knew_ , that the stillness and quietude of open water as far as the eye could see would never hold the same appeal to him that it did for Peter. Being at the heart of it- the centre of those petty human worries, fears and uncertainties- was a much more advantageous position in his eyes. 

But _, relationships are about sacrifice,_ Peter had muttered to him in the wake of their last fight, in a tone half-vindictive and half-wounded. The subject of that particular fight was lost to Elias now, having joined the cacophony of countless other skirmishes. 

But, Elias had said he would _try._ And he was certainly trying now, as he took his first creaky steps onto _The_ _Tundra,_ regrettablyleaving aside the more urgent matter of his Archivist’s recent awakening to his power. How long had Elias been waiting for it? Few were those who would have poured the time and resources he had into this project. Certainly, no one else would have been capable of the same vision for it. He longed to be back at the Institute, but alas, _relationships were about sacrifice_. 

In a show of unwarranted tenderness, Peter stepped forwards and held out his hand for Elias to take. With an elongated sigh and a not-so-subtle roll of eyes, Elias graciously accepted the hand and let himself be drawn in closer by his husband. 

Before he could be pulled in all the way into the other’s embrace, however, he braced his free hand onto Peter’s chest. “It was against my better judgement,” he said neutrally, letting his stare inform Peter just how much this whole ordeal inconvenienced him.

Peter chuckled softly and gently guided down the hand on his chest with his own, until it lay cradled at their side instead.

Then, closing the distance, he pressed his lips onto Elias’s, initially meeting an annoyed resistance, until Elias let his lips part in a pleased hum. Yet, as soon as Peter attempted to deepen the kiss by taking a hold of Elias’s jaw, the smaller man slipped out of his grasp by taking a step back. 

“Is this all you had in mind for tonight?” Elias asked amusedly, while drinking in the marked effect he’d had on his husband. “In that case, I’m sure we could have done this somewhere else- in my office perhaps.” 

At his words, Peter retracted his hands into his large overcoat’s pockets and cast a sweeping glance across the deck, before casting his eyes back on Elias. “If I let you, you’d never leave that place.”

“Well, a body needs its heart after all,” Elias replied, without missing a beat. 

Shaking his head, Peter let out a soft laugh. “You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be, Elias.” With an offhand smile, he added, “You know I do perfectly fine on my own.”

Elias let the last remark slide off of him. This was part of the game too. The lonely captain had no need for a crew, no desire for attachments. Meanwhile, the Eye had knowledge as its sole companion, which was sufficient in itself. Neither was willing to be first to admit how those statements did not ring quite so true. Only, Elias thought himself better at this dance than Peter. His husband could shrug nonchalantly and lace that usual mirth in his voice, but Elias’s patron allowed him to _see_ past this charade and into the captain’s cabin, where engraved glasses and delicate China laid patiently waiting on a lace covered table.

For a moment, Elias felt the lovely temptation of turning his back on his husband and stepping off _The Tundra_ without so much as a backwards glance, only to later observe Peter stand numbly on his deck, before quietly retreating into a comforting mist. Internally, Elias chided himself- tonight, he was here to _try_.

“When did I say I didn’t want to be here, darling?” Elias inquired, brushing his arm against Peter’s as he walked past him. He paused a few steps away and swallowed the smile tugging at his lips; sometimes surprising Peter was as rewarding as getting him on his last nerve. “Well, Peter? Are you coming? I didn’t sacrifice my night for you to ogle at me.”

“Of course, Elias,” the captain conceded, turning to face him. “Plus, we both know who’s better at ogling between the two of us.”

At this, Elias led the way to the captain’s cabin, trusting Peter to follow behind. Despite never having set foot on _The Tundra_ before tonight, Elias had a keen sense of where everything was and belonged. The coiled rope that his shoes knowingly stepped over had been braided just this morning by one of the crew, Melissa Reed, neatly and in a clockwise manner. The surface of the deck was free of dirt and other unpleasant grime, scrubbed earlier by an eager but meticulous seaman called Jack Mercer. Peter’s crew had certainly been kept busy today, although they were nowhere to be seen right now.

As Elias reached the weathered cabin door, its original red paint both chipped and fading into the wood in some places, Peter swiftly side-stepped him to lay a hand on the handle and tugged it downwards. “After you, love,” he offered in a show of mock gallantry, as he gestured for Elias to step inside.

Not rising to the bait, Elias silently headed inside the cabin. At first glance, the room offered a stark contrast to the worn entrance that had led into it. Only slightly smaller in size than what would have made for a cosy living room, the space was mainly occupied by a dark cherry wood desk, standing in front of a lightly colored stained glass window, depicting a red lighthouse in the horizon. Off to one side was placed a large chest below a modest bookshelf- a chest Elias knew to contain various treasures from Peter’s past. His favourite book from childhood. A compass he’d used from the time he became _The_ _Tundra_ ’s captain until twenty-six years ago, when the needle had suddenly stopped turning. A sloped pile of wool coats, threaded with tear and age. And underneath it all, in a dark velvet pouch, his engagement rings from their past six marriages.

Across from Peter’s boxed-up sentiments lay the dinner table under all its adornments, including a golden candelabra, the main source of light within the cabin, and an explanation for the faint scent of vanilla in the air. It was clear to Elias he wasn’t the only one attempting to make amends tonight. 

Wasting no time, he discarded his coat onto the back of the closest chair and sunk into it. While gratifying, his day had been long and had demanded his constant attention; he was past due for a rest. Behind him, he heard the quiet shuffle of feet on carpeted floor and Peter opening the liquor cabinet. 

“Wine?” Peter inquired.

“Just one glass,” Elias replied, not bothering to twist around to face him. 

Peter hummed softly. “Long day at the office then?” Then, after a quick pause and the sound of glass sliding on wood, “How do we feel about a _Sauternes_ tonight?”

Elias was spinning the stem of his glass in his hand, gaze unfocused. How much time would it take his Archivist to fully awaken to his new powers? How long before he let them get the better of him? Unable to deny the urge, Elias closed one pair of eyes and opened another, granting himself an unobstructed peek into Jon’s office, where he found the man unsurprisingly slumped over his desk, the staticky voice of Gertrude Robinson playing for no one to hear. Elias scoffed. How fitting. 

“Elias?”

Snapping his eyes open, Elias found himself back inside the warm cabin. His fingers stopped fiddling with the glass. “Anything’s fine, I leave it up to you. Surprise me.”

He heard Peter let out a huff, which from his position, could be interpreted as either disbelief or weariness. He didn’t need the Beholding to know it was a mixture of both. “Remember the last time you said that? Was it before our fourth or fifth time?”

The fourth divorce. Peter had picked out a wine that tasted like cheap petrol. Then proceeded to make an offhand comment about Elias’s drinking habits. A glass had been thrown and the next day, papers drawn. A messy affair overall.

“Fourth”, Elias replied smoothly. “And no need to be afraid, dear, I truly mean it this time.”

“If you say so, Elias.”

A moment later, Elias’s breath hitched imperceptibly as he felt a hand settle on his shoulder, joined by a pressing warmth at his back. Taking his time, Peter leaned down from behind the chair and began to carefully pour Elias’s drink, his hand still gently pressing down on him.

This close, Elias caught the smell of a husky cologne and wrinkled his nose- decidedly not to his taste- but bit back a comment. Peter was also in desperate need of a shave, his face having gone from scruffy sailor to island castaway since their last meeting. He didn’t mind a slight prickle during their more involved activities, but neither was he looking forward to getting a skin burn. But again, Elias held his tongue.

“Thank you, dear.”

His glass now full, Peter straightened back up and made his way around the table, before serving himself a generous pour. He could be oddly charming at times, that is, when he wasn’t deliberately trying to get a rise out of Elias. 

A peculiar smile was tugging at his lips as he took his own seat and reached for his drink. 

Elias tapped his fingers on the table. “Something you’d like to share, Peter?” Peter’s hand stilled, halfway to his glass, and he looked up at Elias. The other stared back expectantly. “Well?”

To his displeasure, Peter’s smile remained even as he shook his head. “Thoughts aren’t always meant to be shared, Elias. That’s why they’re thoughts,” he explained cheerfully.

“In that case, I would be happy to use a solution that wouldn’t exactly require you to _share_ them. If that is what you would prefer, Peter.” He kept his voice calm as always, but as the words went on, they became infused with something that gave them an almost tangible presence, reaching out and insinuating itself into Peter’s defences.

Impressively, Peter managed to hold on to his smile, despite proving unsuccessful at concealing a flash of alarm in his eyes. “Never mind, I take back what I was thinking. Clearly, I was delirious.”

“Peter,” Elias warned.

The captain dropped his chin into his hand, scratching his beard absently, appearing to contemplate whether or not to answer him, despite them both knowing he would. There was little an avatar of the Lonely tolerated less than the overwhelming sentiment of being _known_.

“I was thinking that you were being unusually sweet. Sweet for you, of course, which I guess doesn’t really mean much. Even the Slaughter shows more kindness than you sometimes,” Peter finally said, eyes downcast, focused on his hand resting on the lace tablecloth.

Elias felt a rare jolt of surprise. Of the many possible responses he’d expected from Peter, honest praise had not been one of them. “Ah,” Elias simply uttered, at an uncharacteristic loss for words. He made a move to grab for his glass, but aborted the movement mid-air and finally let his arm drop down onto the table. He eyed Peter, looking out for any sign of deception, perhaps hidden in the wrinkles of his eyes or the soft blush in his cheeks, but failed to perceive anything of note.

A brief moment of stillness passed, broken by Peter’s hand reaching across the table to meet Elias’s. Had Elias followed his pride, he would have swiftly pulled his hand out of reach. Instead, he allowed Peter to softly cover it, and revelled in its comforting weight and the familiar roughness of his palm.

“You listened,” was all Peter said.

“Of course I did,” Elias replied, more sharply than he meant to. Unexplainably feeling apologetic, he shifted his hand to lace Peter’s fingers with his. He tried again, gentler this time, “I did tell you I would try.”

The tenderness of the look Peter gave him in return left him disconcerted. Part of him fancied taking a vicious jab at Peter. Another part yearned to climb over the table and kiss his husband until they both ran out of air. Elias determined that his best course of action laid somewhere in the middle.

With his free hand, he reached for his yet-untouched glass of wine and raised it towards his husband. “Shall we make a toast?”

Peter immediately nodded, quickly following Elias by raising his own drink. “To trying,” he declared, as he firmly held Elias’sgaze.

“To trying,” Elias echoed. “And to us, my dear.”

Keeping their eyes locked and their hands linked, Elias and Peter finally took their first sip of the night.

At the first taste of the drink on his tongue, Elias grimaced and decisively put his drink back down. “That’s simply disgusting, Peter,” he complained, but in a tone devoid of any malice. However, his scowl deepened as Peter continued downing his own drink, his eyes gleefully watching him from above the glass.

When eventually Peter put his glass down, Elias was openly shooting daggers at him. Seemingly unfazed, Peter dragged his chair back and stood up. Elias straightened in his seat and watched Peter slowly approach him.

There was a beat of silence as Peter stood in front of him, and he felt himself twitch in anticipation. Then, his eyes widened as Peter bent down lightly to steal his drink and proceeded to down it in one go.

Feeling agitated at being both ignored and denied, Elias opened his mouth, getting ready to make a fuss, but any words he’d prepared died in his throat, intercepted by the sudden feeling of Peter’s lips on his. At once, Elias relaxed into his seat and became immersed in the kiss he had been anticipating all night. Peter had him pinned down, with one solid hand on his knee and the other stroking at his jaw. Feeling himself go weak under his touch, Elias tried to regain some level of control by running his hands up Peter’s chest, his fingers attempting to sneak themselves between the buttons of his shirt. As if becoming aware of this, Peter pulled away but kept his hold on Elias. 

Elias licked his lips. “All I can taste is that horrible wine.”

Peter let out an unexpectedly loud laugh, which Elias felt vibrate through him as if he were laughing as well. There might even have been a grin forming at his lips. Still chuckling and battling for air, Peter came down on one knee and leaned forward to rest his head in the crook of his neck, his breath catching as Elias quietly ran a hand through his hair.

“What would I do without you, Elias?” Peter murmured into his skin.

Elias hummed softly in response.

_What would either of them do without each other?_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a lot for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! :) This is my first time writing TMA stuff ^^
> 
> Any comments/kudos will be greatly appreciated <3


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